


Adventures of Xayah and Rakan

by twodimensionaltrash



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Action/Adventure, Despair, F/M, Friendship, Loss, Love, POV First Person, Romance, Vastaya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 15:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twodimensionaltrash/pseuds/twodimensionaltrash
Summary: First-person shorts from the perspective of each of The Lovers, exploring their fears, hopes, and desires. To be Vastaya is to know great pain, and it's easier when shared.





	1. Rakan

Ashes are the only remnants of the village that once stood here. The earth is crimson. Blood is an ugly color. Xayah thinks scars are sexy. I think they’re sexy on  _me_. There’s nothing sexy about corpses and despair.

I stare at her face. Her eyes are sparkling with tears. She’s beautiful. The pain she experiences is hideous. No song can drown the sound of her cries. The world will hear her voice, join her cause. She is music.

I wrap my arms around my lady, hide her in my feathers. She nuzzles into my chest. A bird chirps out an apology. They feel Xayah’s pain like I do but they are not like us. They are fragile. They speak a different language. I barely understand them. I know they’re sharing our sorrows.

“If we had been sooner…” Xayah whispers to my skin. I shiver.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,  _miella_ ,” I assure her.

“We should have been here.”

Everything can be saved. That’s what she believes. That’s why I believe in her. We were too late. We would’ve been late if we were early. It’s too dark to be early anymore. The moon is hiding. Everything is dark. My feathers barely glow.

Xayah is cold. I pet her soft feathers and kiss the top of her head. She smells like grass and trees and hope and blood.

She glances over her shoulder dramatically. I do the same, making eye contact with the birds staring at us. Their feathers don’t glisten. They’re a dull color with dark eyes. They’ve seen too much. They’re already dead.

“Turn around,” Xayah commands. I refuse.

She manifests feather daggers between her fingers and whips them through the air with precision. They gleam in a single ray of moonlight as they soar toward the other birds. Each feather strikes a bird. Their cries fill the air.

They’re out of tune. They can’t hear the music. They probably never did.

“We’ll find who did this,” she swears. “When we do, they’re  _dead._ ”

“If all the world’s a stage, I’ll play the players to the end with you,” I promise her. I heard a human say something like that once. It sounded cool. Humans would be cool if they weren’t so goddamn awful.

“Where did you hear that?” Xayah asks. She raises an eyebrow at me.

I shrug and begin to guide her away from the remains of the village we might’ve saved and the bodies of our distant relatives. “I don’t know.”


	2. Xayah

“Dance with me, honey.” 

Rakan twirls a feather between his fingertips. The glints of gold caught in the sunrise nearly hypnotize me. With a winning smile he clamps the feather between his teeth and nudges at me with his eyebrows.

“Not the time, babe,” I groan, rolling my eyes. I swear, he’s lucky he’s so pretty. Otherwise I’d—

He gasps. “I’m offended you’d say that! It’s _always_ time to dance. If I didn’t dance I would tap my feet all the time like a rabbit… or something. Would that be better? What if I wore rabbit ears? Do you think rabbits hear better with those huge ears?”

I cover his running mouth with my hand. He freezes. His eyes narrow to meet mine, crinkling at the corners. I feel his lips crack into a smile. 

“Are you done yet?” I ask.

He nods.

“Are you sure?”

He nods with slightly more enthusiasm. I remove my hand from his face, gently tracing my fingers over his sculpted jawline as I do. He’s gorgeous. 

“We’re almost to the village. When we get there you can dance all you want, lover boy. We do have to get there first.”

He smiles softly. “Yes dear.”

The dirt road we travel weaves through an endless forest. No light passes the thick canopy of leaves above our heads. Dim luminescent spores float in the air, hinting that maybe once upon a time magic thrived here. 

If it was, the traces left are too subtle to tell. It feels like the spores are remnants from travelers that have walked this same path—that what little magic still clung to those people drifted away like dust.

I thoughtlessly spawn feather daggers between my fingers and spin them around. I find it relaxing. It calms me down to do something so pointless. It feels like everything I do is always about The Cause. I value The Cause above all else, but in the back of my mind I know that there is more to life than fighting for - or against - something. 

Rakan constantly reminds me how important my own life is, but I’ll never be more important than those we have lost. I honor the dead by enduring fight after fight to take back what was stolen from them.

I clench my fist around my feather daggers. Rakan’s calloused fingers wrap around my own. His warmth spreads across my skin as a fire. It burns only in the palms of my hand.

In the distance, the faintest stream of light lingers on the forest floor. It flickers repeatedly. Our destination is in sight. Someone is there. 

I expect the worst at the end. There could be bandits. Or Zed’s stupid army of shadows. Or, like, _actual_ _humans._

_“_ I hope whoever is waiting for us is ready for a party,” Rakan sings quietly.

I giggle. Ew. “You know they never are, baby.”

“Oooh, does that mean I can yell ‘surprise’?”

“As long as you don’t start without me, yes.”

He chuckles, pulling me close to plant a kiss on my head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

No matter who tries to separate us, to steal from us as they’ve stolen from other Vastaya, we will never let them. We’re a dynamic duo.

Nobody parties like we do.


End file.
